


Cherry-Flavored Jett Fuel

by JettFueledFury



Category: Glam Rock RPF, Joan Jett and the Blackhearts, Punk Rock RPF, Rock Music RPF, The Runaways (Band)
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, Best Friends, Bisexual Female Character, Break Up, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Conflict, Conflict Resolution, Depression, Drama & Romance, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, Falling In Love, Female Friendship, Female Relationships, Friendship/Love, Girl Band, Heartache, Heartbreak, Infidelity, Jealousy, Lesbian Character, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Drug Use, Past Relationship(s), Recovery, Relationship(s), Requited Love, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rock Stars, Rock and Roll, Romance, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexual Tension, Teen Angst, Teenage Rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-28
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JettFueledFury/pseuds/JettFueledFury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story of Joan and Cherie's infamous relationship, from the beginning of The Runaways, all the way up to present time. </p>
<p>Rock n' Roll brought them together, will it drive them apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wild One

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all! This is my first-ever fanfic project, I'm very dedicated and taking it serious. Note this is primarily fiction, there are elements of loosely-based facts, but mainly I'm writing under my own perspective and ideas!
> 
> This is an on-going project, I'll be working on and posting chapters when I have the chance! (Regularly come back and check to see if I've added any new chapters)
> 
> **Important note: I will be gone July-October! It's highly unlikely that I'll be able to finish this whole thing before then.
> 
> Please read and enjoy my work! xx

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonight is Joan's night...
> 
>   _"All my life I've wanted to be somebody, and here I am._  
>  _I know what I've got, and there ain't nobody gonna take it away from me._  
>  _So let me tell ya what I am!"_

**November 1975**.

_Joan Jett_ , the rebellious 17-year old Suzi Quatro look-alike was not to be fucked with tonight. Tonight was _her_ night, and nobody, not any boring, square adult or some slimy little punk could break her. Determination ran heavy in her veins, a strange occurrence for most teenagers around Joan’s age. This is something that separated her from the rest of the average teeny-bopper crowd, the dedication and drive combined with a burning passion for rock music. As soon as record producer Kim Fowley steps into the scene, it’s straight business, no screwing around this time, no bullshit...

Joan has never been more serious in her life.

Tonight, it would be her sworn duty to make her wildest, most bizarre dream come true: an _all-girl_ rock band. Sure, the idea sounded fucking crazy to everyone else, but in Joan’s mind, it made perfectly good sense.

“No way, man! What are you, possessed or somethin’?” a classmate once asked her. “Man, the only thing I’m “possessed” with is rock n’ roll! It’s a bit too late to perform an exorcism on my ass already, I’m pretty far from being saved,” Joan retorted.

“ _Girls_ don’t play rock and roll, Miss Larkin,” her guitar teacher had told her. The words obsessively echoed in her head almost every hour of day and night, acting as a trigger of sorts to pick up her guitar and aggressively start strumming. “Fuck all those motherfuckers, I’ll show them,” she thought to herself. Sometimes her teenage angst got the best of her. Even Joan’s closest of friends wouldn’t take her seriously, but she was assured this weirdo Kim Fowley would produce at least some glimmer of hope.

It was getting late, but the infamous teenage hangout known as the Sugar Shack, was buzzing with its rowdy regulars. Elton John’s hit _Bennie and The Jets_ was booming throughout the joint, the bassline amplified enough so it could be heard a few blocks down the strip. Joan waited anxiously inside, leaning against the brick wall nervously sipping her bottle of flat, room-temperature Coke, her brain rattling from the heavy acoustics of the place.

This night felt different, she became more aware and sensitive of her surroundings. She never really paid much attention to the sea of glittered youth rocking before her on the dancefloor. Her attention was diverted to the moving girls, the way they swayed their hips, dancing carefree and without feeling an ounce of sickening worry that Joan was feeling. She was almost envious of the dancing girls, wishing she could be letting lose too. Quickly, she would divert her intrusive thoughts on what really mattered. Rock n' roll. This is something she would remind herself constantly of, acting as a quick distraction, seemingly always curing her ills…

“Get yourself together, Joan... Get it together, man. Fuck!” she sharply whispered to herself.

Something else caught Joan’s off guard this evening, a deliciously petite, shimmering platinum blonde-haired girl sitting alone at a table across the hazy room, sipping a Coke through a straw, also watching the crowd of glitter. Her appearance was striking and sweet, a combination of innocence and a soft kind of badness. It was the perfect combination. She looked a bit familiar, Joan has seen the girl a few times before but she noticed tonight she looked really good in particular. _Really_ fucking good...

The girl looked as if Bowie himself dressed her in that space-aged, glitter get-up. The makeup on her face was electrifying, her hair screamed all things glam and glitter rock. Her cherry-stained lips drooped into a pout, offering the notion of teenage blonde attitude. She was a bomb of some sorts, ready to explode with whatever seemed to be plastered on her face at the given moment.

“Shit…” Joan muttered under quivering breath, running a shaky hand through her amber hair, suddenly feeling a random surge of perspiration. Joan has never felt a strong sense of magnetic attraction towards someone before. Something about this girl was… well… different. Joan’s appearance was outright different too. It was almost like they were calling each other but through their looks, even though they looked like exact opposites, in a way it really brought them together.

She liked what this blonde bombshell girl was composed of, obvious glam rock influence and soft, surfer-girl femininity hiding behind it, with the exception of wild-girl undertones.

“ _The Wild One.._ the fuckin' _Wild One_!” Joan suddenly thought, in reference to one of her favorite Suzy Quatro tunes. She licked her lips.

The blonde’s expression was almost sort of lost, and similar to how Joan always appeared detached from everything else, off in a world of her own.

Joan’s dark brown eyes stuck to the girl like warm toffee, refusing to break away…

The everlasting gaze was interrupted by a firm grab on her shoulder, slightly taking her back.

“JOAN! Whadd’ya doin’ man? That creepo Fowely’s gonna be here any second! You stoned or somethin’?” a youthful voice called out. It was Joan’s best friend Sandy Pesavento, (her staged last name "West") also the drummer for Joan’s beginning band called _The Runaways_.

“Hey, man! Watch it!” Joan spouted defensively. “I’m just… Ya know. Thinkin’… about what I’m gonna offer the guy,” she breathed, a bit embarrassed.

“What? You nervous or somethin’, man?” Sandy asked, almost jokingly, nudging Joan.

“Oh c’mon, Sandy… Me? Nervous? You kiddin’? You’re the one who’s stoned, man!” Joan laughed.

Joan and Sandy's laughter suddenly became brief, Sandy's mood shifting into a nervous uncertainty.

“Oh shit. I think that’s him, Joan” Sandy quickly whispered back.


	2. Dog Dude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Joan's encounter with record producer Kim Fowley doesn't go as expected...
> 
> _“PERFECT! I just might be the luckiest DOG-FUCKER in all of outer space!”_

The two became suddenly quiet, eyeballing the lanky Iggy Pop/Bowie-infused rip-off as he made his grand entrance.

The man was wearing a white cutoff tank-top with a homemade band logo painted on it, a black leather dog collar stuck around his veiny neck, skin-tight black jeans clinging to his toothpick legs. His lips were smeared with shiny dark purple lipstick, with a glowing, sparkly green star covering most of the right portion of his dog-looking face.

“What the _fuck?_ ” Joan chuckled under her breath.

She suddenly didn’t feel so nervous anymore.

“That’s him alright, th-that’s… Kim Fowley,” Sandy said quietly.

The two girls started toward him awkwardly. Before even reaching him, Kim stiffly stuck out a hand, prematurely offering them a shake, his face blank but intimidating.

 “Ah. You must be the dogs? Yes?” Kim asked boldly.

“D-dogs?” Sandy stammered.

 “WELL THEN,” Kim boomed, his stiff hand dropping quickly to his side. The two girls slightly jumped at the sudden change in his volume.

“Looks like you two dogs can _talk_ , eh! Well let’s do some REAL talkin’ now, DOGS! Let’s converse outside! OUT!” he pointed towards the entrance.

“Sure… Whatever you say… _Dog dude_ …” Sandy muttered.

Joan and Sandy quickly exchanged confused looks, following the strange man towards the door. They had just met, and already the weirdo was barking out orders...

The awkward trio stood outside the club. Kim shifted his uneasy eyes towards Joan.

“ _You!_ ” Joan stood at attention now. “You must be Joan… Joan? Joan…? The guitarist?” Kim questioned intensely, raising an eyebrow.

“Jett. I’m… J-Joan Jett,” she replied softly.

“Joan Jett? Joan FUCKING Jett? _FUCK!_ FANTASTIC!” Kim shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

Joan glanced at Sandy, smirking.

“You, dog number two, state your name and rank,” Kim questioned, now looking at Sandy.

“Sandy West. Drummer!,” she stated confidently, with her warm grin.

“PERFECT! I just might be the luckiest _DOG-FUCKER_ in all of outer space!” Kim blurted out enthusiastically.

 Joan and Sandy held back their laughter.

“Now, all we need is a jam session and soon you dogs will be off living in the fucking DOG HOUSE for the rest of your days! Forget about your old, pathetic lives of shitting on the neighbor’s lawn and pissing on his cat! It’s time to shit _INSIDE_ the house for once, dogs!” Kim exclaimed proudly.

As fucking psycho Kim appeared to be, he _did_ have a point behind all of his obscure profanities and canine-related garble. Deep down, Joan knew he would be their only chance at success.

“Alright now, dogs, I’m still on a mission tonight, we AREN’T finished here! I’m looking for a girl…NO! No, not a girl… A fucking BOMB. You hear? _BOMB_. B-O-M-FUCKING-B.” Kim had a crazy look in his eyes now.

“You mean like a bombshell?” Joan inquired, suddenly remembering all of the dirty magazines she’s looked at, seeing the word _bombshell_ a number of times.

“No, Jett. _BOMB_. A stone cold, killer BITCH who’s ready to fucking _EXPLODE!_  Her guts spewing all over our faces!” Kim shot back.

Joan immediately thought of the girl her eyes had been so glued to moments before. She stared at the wild man for a second.

“Hmm. Alright- Well… I think I saw your… _bomb_  inside a few minutes before you showed up. I think she’s still tickin’ if we’re lucky, man” Joan said huskily, her arms folded.

“Huh? Who’s the chick, Joan?” Sandy asked, curious.

“Man, I dunno- I’ve just seen her around the place and- She, uh. She looks like she could play the part” Joan went on, trying not to blush.

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a dog hunt, bitches! MOVE OUT!” Kim barked to the girls.

The three of them went back in the night club, looking like a 3-man wolf pack, ready to attack.

“I gotta take a leak while you guys go look for your little… _bombshell,_ ” Sandy said.

“A dog’s gotta do what a dog’s gotta do,” Kim replied.

“Jett, sniff out the scene for our bleeding vixen, I’ll stand ground and keep my eyes peeled,” Kim announced.

Joan nodded and scanned the dancefloor for the girl. No sight of her.

She returned to the approximate location she was standing at earlier, her eyes instantly darting past a crowd of rowdy kids to the sight of the electric blonde goddess. Joan felt a shiver run down her spine seeing her again. Lost in the moment, she had forgotten she was currently on a mission for Kim.

The blonde was still sitting alone, nearly the same expression, carefully watching over the youthful army of glam rock patrons like they were her precious soldiers, and she was their space-aged rock n’ roller queen.

Suddenly, the girl slowly looked over towards the brunette, their eyes locking in action. Joan let out a sharp, unconscious gasp and held her breath, her body tensing and letting off heat. Her hands began shaking in addition to her knees.

The blonde’s eyes quickly looked Joan square up and down, then right back up to where they were meant to be. Joan noticed this, and couldn’t help but crack a sideways grin. The blonde’s lips curled into a weak smile, bringing her arms down to her lap.

“JETT!” Kim called out.

Joan was taken by surprise, and jumped a little at the sound of Kim’s voice, causing her to come back falling down to Earth.

“I- uh…” Joan swerved her head around to look at Kim.

“Uh... She’s over there, man” she said softly, hesitantly nodding her head toward the blonde.

“Time to mark our territory,” Kim said coolly.

He started over to the girl quickly, Joan followed cautiously behind, making a quick look behind her, seeing Sandy over at the bar ordering a soda.


	3. Rock n' Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all for the sake of rock n' roll...
> 
>   _"Couldn't believe what she heard at all_  
>  _She started dancing to that fine fine music_  
>  _Her life was saved by... rock and roll"_

 Joan maintained an obvious distance away from Kim and the blonde girl.

“Hey,” Kim said, casually. 

“Hey,” the blonde replied quietly, playing with the straw poking out of her near-empty Coke bottle.

“We really dig your look, a little Bowie, a little Bardot, a look on your face that says you could beat the shit out of a truck driver,” Kim insisted, leaning slightly into her.

She smiled lightly.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Cherie,” she replied almost shyly.

“Cherie. That’s a pretty name. Cherie what?”

“Currie. Cherie Currie,” she stated, glancing briefly over at Joan who was almost hiding at a distance behind Kim now.

“Cherie Currie?” Kim questioned boldly, Cherie’s eyes quickly reverting back to him.

“Is that your real name?”

Cherie nodded.

“WELL NOW! May-Be-Great-Cherie Currie! I’m Kim Fowley! Famous record producer! You’d be either dead, deaf, or dumb if you haven’t heard of me!”

 Joan looked over at Cherie, lowering her eyes and bringing them back to her level, smiling coyly. Cherie half-smiled back, her cheeks becoming a bit rosy. She moved her eyes back to Kim.

"Tell me something, Cherie Currie, do you sing or play an instrument?”

Cherie paused and looked at the ground for a second.

“Yeah… I can sing,” she said softly.

“GREAT!” Kim pressed his hands together.

“Now, Cherie, I want you to meet someone…”

He turned his head around and nodded for Joan to approach them. She came slowly walking toward them, ignoring her nervous feelings she felt a few moments before, popping a piece of pink chewing gum in her mouth.

_Ah. Shit…_

Cherie’s eyes suddenly became wide, fixated on the brown haired tom-boy. She found herself liking the way Joan strutted. It was a distinct strut, she’s never seen a girl walk in this manner. Already, Cherie was becoming intrigued. 

“Cherie, this is Joan Jett. She plays guitar,"

Cherie bashfully chewed on her straw, gazing into Joan's dark eyes, feeling a fluttery sensation in her stomach.

"Joan, this is Cherie Currie the SINGER!” Kim gestured towards the blonde.

Joan smacked her gum, giving Cherie a mysterious, coy sort of look. Her lips curling into a light smirk, disguising her internal nervousness.

Cherie shot her a bashful smile, looking down and back up, blushing slightly.

“Now listen to me carefully, Cherie,” Kim placed both hands on the table leaning in closer to her. The look on his face was more serious than before. Cherie focused on him intently now.

“Joan and I here are starting a serious rock and roll band. The REAL deal. Cherie Currie, we _NEED_ you. What do you say? Can you sing for us?”

Cherie’s face became hot. She looked away briefly, feeling a combination of shock and excitement.

“Y-yeah. Sure…” She coughed and cleared her throat, looking a bit uneasy now, her eyes moving from Kim to Joan.

Joan found Cherie’s bashfulness quite amusing and cute.

“Excellent. There’s going to be an audition this Saturday out in the valley. The other girls will be there too. Joan will give you the dirty details. Til’ next time, Cherie Currie.” Kim pivoted on his heels loosely, giving Joan a quick wink and then disappearing into the crowd of glittered patrons.

Cherie was a mixture of extreme emotions right now, feeling somewhat light-headed and in great disbelief of what had just happened. Being one-on-one with Joan was not helping the situation.

They exchanged awkward glances. Joan noticed the sliver of light baby blue wrapping around Cherie’s dilated pupils. Cherie lost herself in the mysterious black depths of Joan’s nearly endless pits for eyes.

“Rebel Rebel” by David Bowie began playing in the background. The glittery kids went wild, with Joan and Cherie taking notice. Cherie _loved_ Bowie, to the point of obsession. She was holding back her overt excitement hearing the tune come on, not wanting to freak Joan out. In her head she told herself now wasn't the time to ooze over the strange glam king.

“So… Uh. I-I’ve seen you around here before,” Joan said in her husky voice, breaking the silence.

“Yeah, I come here mostly with my sister Marie. But tonight I just felt like coming alone…” Cherie replied softly.

“Oh... Why are you alone tonight?” Joan asked, sounding interested.

Cherie was almost taken by surprise by Joan’s sincerity in asking.

“Uh- Me and my sister were at each other’s throats for a bit earlier. We fight sometimes but we always get over it after a while… We’re best friends, you know?” She dropped her eyes to the floor.

Cherie was speaking partially the truth. The real thing that’s on her mind is that it’s only been one of the first few days adjusting to her mom and dad’s recent divorce. Cherie has been deeply bothered by the occurrence, her and Marie have been on and off lately, a way they dealt with the situation was by arguing to distract themselves from the pain. Cherie just wished she could spill everything to Joan right there…

“Hey, I have an older brother and a baby sister, I totally get what you mean about all the fightin’. Me and my brother get into fights a lot. Throwin’ punches and shit. Usually I win, don’t mean to brag. Let me guess, you beat the absolute _shit_ out of your sister, yeah?” Joan asked, sounding amused, smacking her gum.

This made Cherie smile, giggling shyly, she was feeling somewhat better. No one’s made her feel better so quickly except for her father. She found it humorous how Joan immediately thought her and Marie’s type of fighting was physical, and that Joan and her older brother actually _fought._ She tried to imagine the image in her head.

“No,” Cherie laughed. “Me and Marie don’t fight like that. We just argue is all,” she said smiling. “Your brother… He actually hits you?” She asked, a hint of concern.

“Yeah, sometimes... We get too carried away, ya know. Got my lip busted a few times. Nothing too serious…” Joan trailed off, running a hand through her hair.

“Oh… I’m sorry, Joan.” Her face turned into a frown. Cherie didn’t know what to say now, but she did feel empathy for Joan.

“Nah…Don’t be,” Joan said shaking her head, brushing Cherie’s apology off.

Joan’s roughness with her brother really didn’t bother her much. They’ve been fighting physically for about 2 years now. Joan was pretty desensitized from violence. She finds herself almost getting into fights with obnoxious, teenaged punks who decide to mess with her. If you cross Joan’s line, she turns into a completely different person, her rage consuming her entire personality. It takes a lot for her to get this upset, it’s something you’d regret leading her up to this point.

“Anyways… Saturday.” Joan changed the subject, remembering what this night was originally meant to be about.

“Saturday you show up and impress the shit out of us. I have a feeling you will,” Joan said warmly, smiling.

Cherie grinned, looking down and then back up at Joan, cheeks feeling hot again.

“And where exactly am I showing up?” Cherie asked.

Joan reached over for a stray napkin from the neighboring table and took out a pen from her jacket pocket. Quickly, she scribbled down the address and handed the napkin over to Cherie.

“Show up a little before 3’o clock, alright? And don’t stay out too late tonight, kid.” Joan said, winking, cracking a crooked smile.

“Yeah, right…” Cherie replied, rolling her eyes, humorously sarcastic with a grin. 

“Right. Well…I gotta split, Cherie. _Rock n’ roll_.” Joan saw Sandy chatting with some familiar faces, motioning for Joan to join.

Joan quickly headed toward Sandy, waving back at Cherie.

“Bye, Joan!” Cherie called out anxiously to Joan as she disappeared into the chaotic crowd.

“ _Rock n’ roll…_ ” Cherie whispered to herself. “ _Rock n’ roll...”_


	4. Cherie 'Cherry Bomb' Currie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Make it or break it...
> 
> _"Hello Daddy, hello Mom  
>  I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb!  
> Hello world, I'm your wild girl  
> I'm your ch-ch-ch-ch-ch cherry bomb!"_

It was a beautiful sunny, day in the valley (when wasn’t it?), the heat was only on the mild side versus the norm of scorching temperatures. It’s been 3 long days since the encounter at the Sugar Shack. Cherie had stayed up all night and until 4 this morning practicing vocals on “Fever” by Peggy Lee. She felt confident this would wow Kim and the other girls. Cherie mainly thought of Joan, and what she said that fateful night.

“ _Impress the shit out of us… I have a feeling you will…_ ” Cherie felt a sudden deep desire to impress Joan, feeling it was more appealing to receive her recognition and acknowledgment than Kim’s for some reason.

Too excited to feel tired, Cherie slipped into her best outfit, grabbed her cigarettes and quickly headed toward the door.  She glanced over at the wall clock and it read 2:36. “Shit…” she muttered.

“Well, bye, Cherie! Good luck!” her sister Marie called out to her, right before Cherie closed the door behind her. “I’ll see you later, Marie! I’m gonna be late!” Cherie yelled back, quickly shutting the door, then stepping out into the California sun.

She pulled out a cigarette, lighting it as she walked down the neighborhood, squinting in the sunlight. After taking a long drag and coughing immediately, she took out the napkin from her jean pocket with the address.

As she got closer and closer, she was beginning to feel nervous, sweating slightly. She eventually reached the address, exactly where the napkin described. Cherie looked around confused. Was this the right place? She stared at the vacant lot.

“It can’t be…” she whispered, putting out her cigarette. All of a sudden she heard loud instruments beginning to play, it was coming from nearby. The sound was coming from the tiny mobile trailer next to the lot. She looked around cautiously one more time before heading to the trashy hunk of tin.

Cherie approached the trailer with apprehension, knocking at the metal door timidly. No answer, the band couldn't hear her. She tried again, this time using all of her strength. The instruments stopped mid-song.

The door swung opened, Kim standing in the doorway wearing that ugly dog collar and a stained apron of all things. Cherie was a little bit taken back by Kim, for the second time.

“Cherie Currie! Cherie Currie. Welcome. We thought you were gonna be a no-show,” he said, sliding to the side, motioning Cherie to enter.

The first face Cherie noticed was Joan’s, she felt relieved seeing her. Sandy was smiling her warm smile, the bassist stood there confused, the other guitarist just glared, looking impatient and possibly pissed.

“DOGS!” Kim barked. Cherie jumped while the other girls hardly flinched.

“This here is Cherie Currie! Her purpose with us today is to audition for the part of lead vocalist!”

Cherie caught eye-contact with Joan, quickly she looked down, feeling embarrassed.

“Cherie, this is Sandy, Jackie, and Lita.” Kim pointed out.

“ _Cherie Currie?_ Is that your real name?” Lita snorted.

“We all have stage names, except for Lita.” Sandy chimed in.

“Yeah, it’s real,” Cherie replied quietly.

“Doesn’t sound _real_ ,” Lita sneered.

“Shut up, Lita,” Joan said, huskily.

Lita rolled her eyes and folded her arms.

Cherie caught Joan looking her up and down, her cheeks heating up at the sight. Her nervousness disappeared for only a brief second.

Cherie stood there feeling more and more uncomfortable, mainly because Lita looked like she was about to beat her with her guitar. Jackie looked like she wanted to run away from it all.

“Let’s get to business now, ladies, since we’re all acquainted. What will you be singing for us today, Cherie?”

“Suzi Quatro, right?” Joan asked, eagerly.

“Y-yeah. Suzi Quatro…” Cherie answered, feeling nervous again.

 _“’_ Can the Can’ _?”_ Joan asked. Sandy broke into the intro drum beat. The four girls started sloppily jamming to the song until they noticed Cherie wasn’t singing anything. They stopped and looked at her.

“Uh… No. What about ‘Fever’?” Cherie cleared her throat, her face becoming red like a cherry.

“ _’FEVER’_?!” Lita spat in a disgusted voice.

“THAT FUCKING PEGGY LEE SONG?!”

Everybody stood there, staring awkwardly.

Cherie was about to die from embarrassment. She could feel sweat dripping down her back. This was the _one_ song she had practiced and perfected!

“S-Suzi Quatro sang ‘ _Fever_ ’…” Cherie choked out.

“Who’s Peggy Lee?” Sandy asked.

“My mom likes Peggy Lee” Jackie said.

“So- uh. Do any of you guys know ‘ _Fever_ ’?” Joan mumbled to her bandmates. No answer, just blank stares and shrugs. 

“JESUS CHRIST! _WHY_ am I surrounded by amateur, teenaged dog shit?” Kim yelled out, plopping down on the nasty, old couch.

Lita had all the justification she needed to dislike Cherie even more now, intensifying her glare at the frightened blonde girl while Sandy laughed and twirled her drumstick, Joan stood there in deep thought, and Jackie staring up at the ceiling.

“Kim! You should have told her we _don’t_ play that _MOR_ shit!” Lita snapped.

“What- W-what’s MOR?” Cherie stammered.

“Fucking, middle-of-the-road, pansy-assed SHIT, THAT’S WHAT!” Lita shot back.

Cherie knew it was all over. She let everyone down. Even _Joan_ … Cherie tried with all she had not to break down and start crying in front of the whole band. 

“Cherie, will you step out for a minute please?” Kim said in a low voice.

 _Oh my god this is actually it, they hate me, they all fucking hate me…_ Cherie thought to herself, her eyes beginning to water, hearing the clunky door slam shut behind her. She dropped down and sat on the dusty earth, holding her head in her hands, beginning to cry. She could hear indistinct mumbling inside the trailer, Lita’s voice especially.

Cherie felt sick to her stomach, hot tears continued to slide down her rosy cheeks.

About ten minutes go by, and she hears a guitar quietly playing some rock n’ roll rhythm. It sounded _mean_ and _aggressive_.

“AGAIN!” She hears Kim shout. “YES!”

A good few more musical minutes fly by and then finally the trailer door opens, Joan comes out and plops right down next to Cherie.

“Hey, kid…” Joan says softly.

“Hey, Joan…” Cherie replied quietly, staring at the ground, sniffling.

“Listen… Lita can be a real bitch, that’s just how she is. Don’t take her shit personal,” Joan said soothingly, placing an arm on Cherie’s back.

“So you guys don’t hate me?” Cherie asked in a small, quivery voice.

Joan laughed. “Hate you? Why would we _hate_ you, Cherie?”

“I-I thought I let all of you down. _You_ especially…” Cherie sounded like she was about to cry again.

“Aw, Cherie. C’mon. Don’t be hard on yourself like that. You didn't let any of us down. Definitely not me… Everything’s fine, believe me.” Joan rubbed Cherie’s back gently, sending a shock right through her. Cherie smiled weakly, feeling embarrassed she had been crying.

Joan stared into Cherie’s watery, baby blue eyes. “Y-you got some makeup runnin’ down your face, Cherie. Here…”

Joan wet her thumb and smeared the mascara off Cherie’s cheeks and from under her eyes, feeling a strong desire to comfort the vulnerable girl. Cherie studied Joan’s serious-looking face as she cleaned her up. She felt a strong feeling of attraction towards Joan, her stomach fluttering from it all.

Joan glanced down at Cherie’s cherry lips wishing she could kiss them in this moment, the thought making her blush. She’s never seen a girl’s lips look so…Perfectly kissable.

“There... Good as new,” Joan said, smiling.

Cherie felt strangely better by a whole lot. It felt good being comforted by Joan like this. She flashed Joan a bashful smile.

“Ready to go back inside?” Joan asked.

Cherie nodded. Joan stood up and took Cherie’s hand, helping her to her feet and opening the door.

“Ah! Good you two dogs could finally make it! We were beginning to think you two strays wondered off!” Kim said as Joan and Cherie entered the trailer. Lita rolled her eyes. Sandy laughed, twirling her drumsticks again.

“Here, kid…” Joan handed her a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

Cherie studied it. They were _lyrics_ to a _song_. _“_ Cherry Bomb _”_ was scribbled at the top.

“You wrote this?” she asked, looking at Joan.

Joan just shrugged.

Cherie studied the handwriting. She _liked_ these lyrics, she felt some sort of strange connection to them. She understood _them_. This song was about _her_! This was _Cherie Currie’s_ song. She was the _Cherry Bomb_.

“Sing.” Kim said in his low voice. He looked at Cherie with all seriousness.

Cherie nodded quickly. She cleared her throat and stared at the paper with mild apprehension.

“H-hello Daddy…Hello Mom…I’m your…Ch-ch-ch-ch-cherry bomb…” she sang softly, her insecurities were apparent through her voice. Kim stared at her, practically through her.

“Dog shit,” Kim said flatly, shaking his head. “Dog shit.”

Cherie’s eyes dropped to the ground.

“Growl. _MOAN!_ LIKE YOU WANT A FUCK-ING _ORGASM!_ ” Kim snarled, Cherie flinching at his words.

“Yeah…” Joan agreed. "Do it... It's just a song, Cherie."

Joan started strumming the main chords, eyeing Cherie.

Cherie stared back. She grabbed the microphone in a death grip, tilting her head back and _howling_ the lyrics.

She thought about the time she saw David Bowie in concert, his stage persona. All those times she’s lip-synced to his songs…

_I’ll give you somethin’ to live for- HAVE YA, GRAB YA ‘TIL YA SORE!”_

This time she meant it. She thought about her dad leaving the family. This made her mad, _real_ fucking mad. _Pissed_.

 _I’m your… Ch-ch-ch-ch-CHERRY BOMB!”_ She growled into the mic.

Joan liked the way Cherie sang, the angst, the attitude, the sexuality of it all. She liked looking at her, as she played her guitar, almost becoming too distracted by Cherie’s presence. Joan also enjoyed the sight of Cherie tightly gripping the microphone, like her whole life depended on it.

They ran through the song again, except this time Kim stopped them prematurely, just as they were getting into it.

“Let's not get too cocky with our cocks now, dogs.” Kim stated.

"Blondie. Wait outside for a second. Go." He ordered coolly.

Cherie took in a deep breath of air as she stepped outside again.

“Dogs. Feedback time. What do you think of our little _cherry bomb_?” Kim asked, pressing his hands together.

The girls looked back at him, saying nothing.

“Open your mouths, bitches! Lita! You first!” He shouted.

“She needs to toughen up. This is a fuckin'  _rock n’ roll band_ , man. She can’t just come in here, lookin' all innocent and cute singin' the shit our parents FUCK to!"

“Good advice. Sandy?”

“She was _bitchin’_ , man! I liked her! Real bitchin'...” Sandy waved her drumsticks in the air.

Kim nodded. “Jackie?”

“Yeah, I think she’s good.”

“Mhm. Joanie? What do you got?”

Joan grabbed the neck of the guitar, still dangling from her shoulders. She hesitated for a second, blowing a quick, giant pink bubble.

“Uhhh- Yeah, Kim. I mean, she’s great. Great...” She smiled.

“GREAT!” Kim boomed. “Jett, throw the dog a bone. Let her know.”

Joan smirked, gently setting down her guitar, quickly heading towards the door.

“Heya, kid…” Joan said, looking down at Cherie.

“Hey…” Cherie scanned Joan’s face for a sign of verdict.

“So- uhh. Lita wants to know if you can sing any more Peggy Lee songs.” Joan said jokingly.

Cherie smiled and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”

“I’m just messin’, man. We all think you’re great. We want you in the band, Cherie.”

“Really?” Cherie squeaked, her face lighting up.

“Really, really.” Joan replied, smiling.

Cherie grinned at Joan, her sparkly white teeth showing.

“C’mon… _Cherry Bomb._ ” Joan smirked, sticking out her hand.


	5. Shake Appeal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's only fun...
> 
> _"Said-a shake appeal  
>  Moves so fast on me  
> Shake appeal  
> Moves so fast to see  
> Moves so fast moves so fast  
> Move a little misery"_

**5 weeks later…**

_The Runaways_ were starting to become a _real_ band, they were practicing hours and hours every day, spending more and more time with each other. They soon found themselves becoming closer friends.

Hell, the girls were beginning to _look_ like somebodies. At this point, they were all about reinventing their looks. Joan dyed her hair jet black, adding a striking contrast to the other band members, still dawning her heavy, Suzi Quatro-inspired look. Cherie modeled her stage presence after her idol, David Bowie. In a way, she resembled a bit of the strange alien man, as Joan closely-resembled Suzi.

Today was a practice day, but not only practice, a _gig_ tonight, one of their first. It was a house party they would be playing at. Pumped and excited, the girls were filled with excessive energy.

Practice was good, they jammed hard, playing each song to near perfection. The other girls and Kim left afterword, leaving Joan and Cherie in the trailer.

Joan sat on the old couch, pulling out her pack of cigarettes, flipping one into her mouth and holding another out towards Cherie. She lit Cherie’s first, then hers, taking a long drag.

“House party, huh…” Joan said, exhaling.

“Oh, man… I wonder if there’ll be a lot of people,” Cherie said, plopping down next to her.

“I’ve been to a few out in the valley.  Just a bunch of bored-ass kids partying when their parents are outta town.”

Cherie nodded, hesitating for a second.

“I’m kind of nervous, Joanie…” she said softly.

Joan looked at Cherie intently.

“Nervous? Cherie, c’mon, you _killed_ today at practice. Hell, even Lita seemed impressed,” Joan laughed reassuringly, nudging her. “That little scream of yours is gettin’ pretty good, man... Didn’t know you had it in you” Joan grinned.

Cherie managed to crack a smile, blushing slightly. Joan always knew the right words to say to cheer her up.

“You really think so?” she asked, taking another drag.

“Shit, yeah. Don’t worry so much, blondie…” Joan put a hand on Cherie’s leg.

“Besides… I scored some fix-me-ups, if you need a little extra kick.”

Joan reached into her pocket, pulling out a small plastic baggie of tiny black pills.

“See?” she held it out in front of Cherie, her soft blue eyes fixating on the mysterious-looking capsules.

“What- What are those?” Cherie asked, sounding intrigued.

“Called ‘luudes. Make you… ehhh… a bit more relaxed…”

“Open your mouth, girl” Joan coaxed.

Cherie looked into Joan’s warm brown eyes, trusting her. A bit cautious, Cherie opened her mouth slowly, allowing Joan to place a pill on her tongue. She tilted her head back and swallowed, Joan watching her carefully.

“You’ll uh- feel somethin’ in a little bit…” Joan said, taking a drag.

The two sat there in silence for a while, smoking. Finally, Cherie felt an odd sensation sweep over her, she felt relaxed, but kind of dizzy. She closed her eyes, forgetting about the cigarette between her fingers.

“You okay?” Joan asked, putting her arm around Cherie’s shoulders.

“Y-yeah… I feel… better” she breathed, her eyes still closed.

“Good, good… I told you” Joan nodded, staring at Cherie’s profile.

Cherie has never felt so good in such a long time. The pill made her feel warm and calm inside, silencing any anxieties she had prior. It was almost like she felt… _complete_ …

“You wanna go grab somethin’ to eat, kid?” Joan asked, exhaling.

“I’m starving… Let’s go” Cherie replied, putting out her cigarette.

“Hey, let’s go to Pup’n Fries and see if your sister is workin’” Joan said humorously.

“Okay,” Cherie giggled.

Joan grabbed Cherie’s hand, holding it as they went outside.

 

*          *          *

**3.5 hours later…**

“Fuckin'  _shit_ …” Joan grumbled, fussing with a guitar string. One had snapped during sound check.

“Joan, you alright, man?” Sandy called out from behind her drum set.

“Just peachy…” Joan muttered back.

“You better get that thing on, we start in 10 minutes…” Lita urged.

Cherie walked up to the set, gripping her mic. Joan took her eyes off the guitar for a second, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the blonde.

She looked down at Joan, flashing that bashful little smile of hers. Joan smiled blushingly back, and then diverted her attention back to her guitar.

The house was flooded with kids. Kim didn’t think this many people would actually show up. It was just more money for him anyway…

10 minutes was up, luckily, Joan strung her guitar just in time. The girls exploded into the first song of the night, _Cherry Bomb._ The crowd went wild, bouncing off each other, nearly slamming into the walls, shouting excitedly at the band.

A few drunken guys standing near the front became rowdy with each other, then targeting Cherie. One aggressively tried grabbing at her. Joan instantly saw this, a pang of protectiveness coming over her. The bastard tried again, this time actually grabbing Cherie’s t-shirt. Joan saw red, without hesitation, she kicked the fucker directly in the face. Blood streamed out of his nose down his face, groaning in pain. Nobody seemed to care as his friends dragged him away from the set.

As Cherie sang, she glanced over at Joan, giving her a peculiar look. Joan looked back at her, responding with a wink.

They continued to play energetically through the full set, ignoring and dodging whatever came at them. Including a few beer cans they deflected by using their guitars as shields, Cherie slithered out of the way. The girls ended with their last song, _Johnny Guitar._ Ending on the last few chords, the crowd applauded wildly, some even yelling "encore!"

"Thank you!" Cherie exclaimed into the mic. "Don't forget! We're _The Runaways!_ " Joan added. "Let's PARTY!!" Sandy yelled out from the back. "YEAHHHH!!" Lita shouted, raising a fist. Jackie stood there only smiling. The girls retired their instruments and went on to enjoy the party, specifically to the booze. 

Joan and Cherie grabbed their drinks and sat down on a vacant couch. The other Runaways disappeared somewhere else in the loud, crowded house.

Joan sipped her beer slowly, eyeing Cherie who wore a blank expression on her face, clutching her drink. 

"You doin' alright, blondie?" Joan asked her, nearly shouting.

She smiled that bashful smiles of hers. "Yeah! That was a great show, huh?" Cherie shouted back.

"Hell yeah! You were great!"

Cherie blushed, hiding her smile by taking a few sips of the beer. 

"I can't believe you kicked that guy in the face, Joan!"

Joan laughed loudly. "Nobody should be grabbin' at you like that, blondie!" 

"So what, you're my personal body guard now?" Cherie teased, giggling.

"You could say that..." Joan smiled.

They stared into each other's eyes, Cherie felt that strange, fluttery feeling in her stomach return. She felt kind of turned on by Joan's over-protectiveness.

Joan brought the can to her lips, chugging the remainder of her beer, maintaining eye contact with Cherie.

"Ahhh. I'm gonna go get another... Be right back" Joan said loudly.

Cherie watched as Joan strutted over to the drinks, taking a few giant gulps, heaving a bit at the bitter taste. Her head felt kind of woozy now.

Joan sat back down close to Cherie, cracking another can of beer open, taking a long sip. A third can stuck out of jean pocket.

"Hey, let's go upstairs" Joan said in Cherie's ear. 

Cherie nodded as Joan grabbed her hand, the two shuffling through the cramped living room.

They made their way upstairs, passing a number of couples sucking faces. Joan knocked on one of the doors in the hallway. She tried the handle, opening it and peered inside. It was an empty bathroom. She walked in, Cherie closing and locking the door behind them. Joan plopped down on the toilet lid, Cherie sat up on the sink counter. The booming ambiance of the party was somewhat muffled. The two sipped their drinks in quiet for a moment.

Joan shoved a hand in her other pocket, digging for a moment until she pulled out her little plastic baggie of pills.

"Let's make this a little more... Fun" Joan suggested.

Cherie's eyes widened seeing the black capsules again.

"Finish up your drink first" Joan urged, opening up a capsule and dropping the contents into her drink.

Cherie quickly shot down the booze and shivered after getting it down. "Blehhh... You actually like this stuff?"

Joan laughed. "You don't drink it for the taste, kid..."

She cracked open the other beer, emptying another pill into it and handed it to Cherie.

"You'll like this one better... I promise" Joan coaxed, smiling up at Cherie.

Cherie brought the drink up to her lips and sipped slowly, looking at Joan. Instantly, she felt a rush and a surge of dizziness. 

Joan chugged down the drink and let out a groan then a loud belch. Cherie giggled, taking a long sip. She stared at Joan's blank face, feeling a sudden pang of attraction wash over her.

Cherie tilted her head back and finished off the rest of the drink, feeling incredibly dizzy and hazy. She almost lost her balance, nearly falling off the counter.

Joan awkwardly got up and stood closely in front of Cherie. She leaned in, placing both hands on the counter, and whispered in Cherie's ear.

"Hey" she said.

"Hey" Cherie whispered back.

Both were feeling very drunk.

Joan cocked her head to the side, looking at Cherie from an angle. A shaky hand left her side to gently play with Cherie's hair.

Cherie stared at Joan's parted lips, wanting deeply for her to plant them on her own. The built-up sexual tension between felt like it was going to finally snap, especially in a moment as intense as this. They've shared intense moments before, but not to this extent. 

Their eyes met again, this time locking in. Cherie placed her hands on Joan's shoulders, gripping them slightly. Joan brought her face closer to Cherie's, their lips nearly touching now. Cherie glanced down at Joan's lips then back up, hinting at what she desperately wanted. Joan obliged. 

She gently pressed her lips against the blonde's. Cherie's heart raced from the sensation, as did Joan's.

Their lips collided, Joan slid her eager hands up Cherie's legs and grabbing her tiny waist. Cherie draped her arms around Joan's neck.

Joan slowly slipped her tongue between Cherie's lips, and sliding it around her mouth and all over her tongue. As the kissing intensified, Cherie wrapped both her legs around Joan, pulling her in tighter. Joan responded by running her hands up and down the sides of Cherie's thighs, liking the way she felt.

They stopped to catch their breath, their lips inches apart.

"Sh-Shit..." Joan breathed, drunk.

Cherie smiled against Joan's lips, pressing against her body. She felt light-headed and woozy.

Joan brought her lips to Cherie's neck, kissing all over it, loving the way Cherie smelled.

Cherie let out a quiet moan, her stomach fluttering and heart thumping, squeezing Joan's hips with her legs.

Joan felt sexually charged, she couldn't help but grind her hips into Cherie.

"O-oh..." Cherie moaned. Joan sunk her teeth into the skin of Cherie's neck. The sensation was like a volt of electricity, Cherie loved how Joan made her feel like this.

Hearing Cherie moan sent shivers down Joan's spine. She slipped a sweaty hand underneath Cherie's t-shirt, sliding her hand over her soft skin. Cherie lifted off her shirt, and tugged at Joan's.

Joan smiled, allowing her to take it off, then leaned back into Cherie, their lips crashing. Cherie ran her hands up and down Joan's back as their tongues met.

Cherie grabbed Joan's hand and moved it to the front of her jeans, hinting at what she craved.

"Touch me..." Cherie whispered into Joan's ear. Strong feelings of lust and desire spread over Joan hearing Cherie's request.

Joan unzipped the zipper of Cherie's jeans, and placed her hand inside, feeling how much Cherie wanted her.

"F-fuck..." Joan shuddered.

Cherie put a hand on Joan's face and pulled her into another succession of sloppy kisses.

Suddenly they were interrupted by obnoxiously loud knocking on the door.

"C'mon man! I gotta fuckin' piss! Open up!" a male voice called out.

"Oh God!" Cherie exclaimed, quickly putting on her t-shirt and zipping up her jeans.

"FUCK!" Joan blurted, fussing with her fly and grabbing her shirt.

Cherie jumped off the counter and looked in the mirror, looking for any obvious signs of what had been happening.

The knocking returned, except it was practically banging now.

"Just a fuckin' second, man!" Joan yelled, putting her shirt on.

Joan opened up the door and pushed past the kid, Cherie following quickly behind. Joan turned around, grabbing Cherie by the waist.

"Fucking shit..." she smiled.

"That was too close..." Cherie giggled.

"Fuck... We better head back to the party, they're gonna think we _actually_ fucked." Joan laughed.

 

 

 

 


	6. Good Guys, Bad Guys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things can change in a matter of minutes...
> 
> _"Good guys bad guys  
>  Doesn't really matter  
> Punch drunk, high on junk  
> Sad you are so shattered"_

**2 weeks later...**

Cherie has never been so excited in her life, finally things were on the optimistic-side of things for her. With all this hype about the band, she rarely thought about her father’s absence anymore. She found her thoughts primarily occupied with Joan as well.

One morning, in awe over the news that an executive from Mercury Records will be listening to the band play _Cherry Bomb,_ Cherie spilled the good news to her mother.

“Mom! You’ll never believe it, but we’re actually a becoming a _real_ band! Next month we’re going to be making a record, an actual _record!_ We’ve been playing all these amazing shows…” Cherie went on.

“Well…That’s great, honey.” Her mother said, preoccupied. “That’s really great. But Wolfgang and I have some wonderful news for you too.”

Wolfgang was Cherie’s mother’s new love interest. And by the sounds of it, he was far more important than Cherie, and more important than all 3 Currie kids.

Cherie’s mother announced to them that they would all be moving to Indonesia. _Indo-fucking-nesia._ Yeah, that was _not_ happening. And Cherie Currie, lead singer of _The Runaways_ was having none of it. Being in this band was a once in a lifetime experience, Cherie wasn’t just going to piss it away… She was staying here, in LA. Her sister too. And that was that.

Still…Cherie was upset. First her father, now her mother would be leaving her. All she really had was her sister and her grandma now. But her real family were _The Runaways_.

After a fiery argument with her mom, Cherie stormed into her bedroom, tears streaming down her rosy cheeks as she plopped herself on her bed. She stuffed her face into her pillow, screaming as loud as she could, feeling betrayed and alone.

She thought about Joan to distract herself from the pain. She suddenly remembered what happened at that party a few weeks ago... her stomach fluttering at the thought. She smiled and stuffed her face back into the pillow, thinking about how adorable Joan was and how she kicked that guy in the face for her. She also remembered what they had done in the bathroom, how Joan kissed her and the feel of Joan's muscular frame tightly against her...

It's been a few days since she's seen her last. Cherie put down the damp pillow and picked up the phone and called her up.

“I’ll get it!” Joan called out. She gently set down her guitar and ran to the ringing phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Joanie…” Cherie said softly, the fact she had been crying still lingered in her voice.

“Cherie? Is somethin' wrong?" Joan asked, concerned.

“Joanie, I-I just need you to come over, okay? I can’t explain over the phone. Can you come over around 7ish? No one’s going to be home…”

Joan gulped, looking over at the clock. “Well okay, blondie. Where’s everyone goin’ tonight?”

“My mom is going out to a movie with Wolfgang and Donnie is sleeping over at his friend’s house. Marie is hanging out with her friends… I don’t think she’ll be back either. I have the house to myself. So… can you?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there... See ya at 7." Joan smiled.

“Thanks, Joanie. See you...”

Joan anxiously waited around her house for about an hour until finally it was getting close to 7. She reached under her bed for her pack of cigarettes and stuffed them in her jacket. Quietly, she crept out her window and out the backyard. It was quite the walk from her house to the valley, but in this case, it was well worth it.

**7:24 PM.**

Cherie glanced at the clock. _Where is she? Oh God, I hope she didn’t get killed or something, it’s all my fault!_

Suddenly there was a loud, obnoxious knock. Cherie quickly opened the door and it was not who she expected.

“Derek…?” Cherie stood in the doorway, shocked. It was Marie’s psycho ex-boyfriend who had a creepy fascination with Cherie.

“Heya, Cherie... ishuhh- M-Marie here? I j-just wanna talk to... Marie. L-lemme in…” he slurred, putting a hand on the door.

“Marie isn’t here she’s out with her friends and she broke up with you over 4 months ago! You’re crazy! Now LEAVE!” Cherie snapped at him. Derek was obviously drunk, she could smell the alcohol without him even having to open his nasty mouth again.

“Cherie, c’monnnn… Less-jus… talk... L-lemme in, it’s freeeezin’ out here!”

“No, Derek! Go away! I said Marie’s not here! Leave!” she yelled.

“Jus- for… a second…” Derek pushed passed Cherie, almost knocking her down. He was inside the house now. Cherie suddenly felt weak and afraid…

_Where the FUCK is Joan?_

Derek stumbled up the stairs towards Cherie’s room.

“Derek! I said LEAVE! Get out right now! What the _fuck_ are you doing! _Derek!_ ” she called after him, but he didn’t bother listening.

He fell over into her room, sloppily picking himself back up. “Oh yeaaaah. B-Bowie… Ya know he’s a faggot r-right?” he laughed, touching the posters of her idol.

“Derek… Listen. I really need you to leave. I’m not allowed to have anyone over when no one else is here…” Derek continued to ignore her, touching her things and slurring stupid comments.

All of sudden he turned around to face Cherie.

“Ya know…You look _exactly_ like Marie. Are ya… _Completely_ identical?” he asked drunkenly, looking her up and down. Cherie was too afraid to say anything now, feeling anything would set him off.

“Cherie, why ya lookso afraid? You’re not scared of me are ya? I don’t bite…” he eyeballed her like a disgusting, hungry dog.

“S-stop looking at me! Get out!” Cherie managed to choke out, her fists in tight balls. She was a mix of fear and rage now.

“Shhhhhh.” Derek grabbed Cherie tight by the arm.

“Ow! Derek! Let go of me! What the-” Cherie tried to yell but Derek put his dirty, rough hand over her mouth. She tried to break free but his grip was too strong. He was also a lot bigger than her, obviously stronger.

_Joan. Joan. Joan. Where the fuck is Joan?_

“You’re gonna like it… I swear…” Derek mumbled, pushing Cherie to her bed.

_Please…Please…Please…Joanie. Where are you? Joanie…_

Derek began tugging at Cherie’s night shirt, pushing his heavy weight over her. His other hand still clamped down on her arm.

“DEREK WHAT THE HELL! GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! GET OFF! GET OFF!” she pleated at the top of her lungs. It was no use…

_Joanie… Joanie… Save me, Joanie…_

Derek grabbed Cherie by the throat. “Stop…fuckin'… strugglin'… damn it! Is-only gonna make it worse... ya want it to hurt or not?” he muttered.

“FUCK YOU DEREK!” FUCK YOU! F-”

Derek just laughed, putting his hand over Cherie’s mouth again.


	7. Sweet Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something sweet about Joan and Cherie after all...
> 
> _"I'm glad that you're older than me  
>  Makes me feel important and free  
> Does that make you smile, isn't that me?  
> I'm in your way, and I'll steal every moment"_

Joan approached Cherie’s house with caution, noticing the front door was left wide open.

 _"What the fuck?”_ she muttered sharply, slowly walking up the empty driveway.

“Cherie?” she called out, entering the dimly-lit house.

“Cherie, it’s Joan… I'm here! Hello?”

No answer.

Joan stopped in her steps. She could hear the struggling going on upstairs. It was Cherie’s muffled screaming along with Derek's grunting.

“ _Cherie?!_ ” Joan yelled, running up the stairs. She kicked opened the door with Bowie posters plastered on the outside. There she saw the drunken dog that was Derek, tearing away at Cherie’s nightshirt with one hand, fumbling with his pants in the other.

“MOTHERFUCKER!” Joan yelled, lunging at the bastard.

Joan grabbed a chunk of Derek’s greasy, shaggy hair, nearly ripping it out. Cherie managed to break free from Derek’s grip, quickly slipping from underneath him, and retreated over to the corner of her room, watching as Joan took on the belligerent beast.

“MAN, DON’T YOU FUCKIN' TOUCH HER AGAIN! I’LL FUCKIN' WASTE YA!” Joan screamed at him, jabbing her knee hard into his back, still yanking on his hair.

Derek grunted loudly in pain.

“W-what the fuck, man! Aghhh! L-let go!” he blubbered, his free arm attempting to reach behind him.

Joan reached into her jacket pocket and took out her prized stiletto knife, and held the cold blade to Derek’s neck.

The shaken-up Cherie stared intently at Joan, witnessing the hidden protector that Joan secretly was. Cherie found herself somewhat turned on once again by it.

“Listen, fucker…” Joan muttered into his ear. “On the count of 3, your pathetic drunken ass is gonna crawl right outta here... _get it_?” Joan clenched the blade tightly.

“F-f-fuck, man! F-fine! Jus… fuckin'… lemme go ya crazy, dyke bitch!” Derek wailed, sounding like a drunken pussy at this point.

Joan let off swiftly and watched the bastard stumble to his feet. He attempted to regain his balance, and nearly face-planted as he sloppily wobbled down the stairs.

After a few stuttered steps, she heard the front door slam shut.

“Fuck…” Joan breathed, plopping down on the edge of Cherie’s bed, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Cherie was still shaking, in an intense state of relief and shock. Joan looked up at her, seeing the awe on her face.

Cherie slowly walked over to Joan, her nightshirt nearly in shreds. Joan’s eyes grazed over Cherie’s shivering frame.

“Man… What the _fuck_ happened, Cherie? That guy… Who was he?” Joan asked, sounding breathless.

“H-He's… my sister’s crazy ex-boyfriend. Derek..." Cherie took a deep breath, folding her arms.

"He came here asking to see her. I-I told him she wasn’t here and he... well... sort of… p-pushed his way inside. The asshole wouldn’t take no for an answer! Joanie I was so scared I didn’t know what to do!” Cherie explained, her voice quivering as her petite body trembled.

“Shit, Cherie…” Joan shook her head, running a trembly hand through her sweaty hair.

“I’m fuckin’ glad I got here when I did… He-uh didn’t hurt you did he? He didn’t…You know…” Joan looked down, frowning at Cherie’s legs.

“N-no. But… He almost did. You came here just in time to stop him.” Cherie said quietly.

“Are you goin’ to be okay?” Joan asked, deeply concerned.

“I-I’m fine now.” Cherie turned away for a second. She took a deep breath and sat down on the bed close to Joan.

“You saved me. But…We can’t tell anyone about this. Okay? We just can’t, Joanie...”

Cherie really was serious about this. How could she tell anyone anyway? But she trusted Joan...

“Okay, Cherie… This will be our secret. Between you and me.” Joan said softly, gazing into Cherie’s watery blue eyes.

“Between you and me…” Cherie replied, locking eyes with Joan.

Joan’s heart skipped a beat hearing Cherie’s words, the way she said it. Her voice was so _sweet_ and feminine, soothing and calming to Joan’s ears.

It broke Joan’s heart knowing someone hurt Cherie tonight, hurt her _bad. How could someone do this to her?_ Someone so sweet… And innocent…The thought that Derek tried to violate Cherie made Joan physically sick. She never wanted anything like this to happen to her friend ever again.

 _She would protect Cherie Currie_.

Joan glanced beside her. Cherie was staring at the floor with her arms tucked around her stomach. It was obvious she was hurt, Joan desperately wanted to do something about it.

“Cherie?” Joan began softly, staring at Cherie’s profile.

“Mm?” Cherie snapped her head to look at Joan, their faces just inches apart.

Both girls stared deep into opposite, contrasting eyes…

In that moment, Joan slowly brought her lips to Cherie’s, bringing both trembling hands up to cup her face. It was a risk. This time, no drugs or alcohol involved.

Butterflies released into Cherie’s stomach, intoxicating her, losing herself in Joan’s tender, but passionate kiss. She wanted this just as much as Joan, possibly even more. It was evident in the way Cherie gently slid her tongue over Joan’s bottom lip, almost biting her.

She wrapped her arms around Joan’s neck, wanting more.

The world felt like it was slowly melting around them. Nothing mattered, not even the damage that beast Derek inflicted on Cherie, or the fact both parents left her.

Joan soothed all the pain she has ever felt in her whole life.

Kissing Cherie for the second time is such a rush for Joan, she was feeling lightheaded by it all. Cherie’s lips tasted sweet, something like a cherry-flavor, as did her feminine scent.

A quiet moan escaped from Cherie as Joan moved her tongue over hers. Cherie ran her hands through Joan’s slightly damp black hair as the kiss deepened, Joan shuddering from the blonde girl’s touch.

Joan moved her lips to Cherie’s neck. Cherie let out a soft gasp in response to the warm sensation. Joan kissed place to place on the blonde’s neck, slightly sucking on each destination. Cherie clenched Joan’s hair, loving the familiarness of Joan's lips on her neck.

“J-Joanie…” Cherie cooed as a tingly, warmness radiated between her legs.

Joan’s hands slipped underneath Cherie’s nightshirt, sliding them down her back as she continued to peck at her neck.

Cherie peeled off Joan's leather jacket as Joan carefully lifted off Cherie’s tattered nightshirt.

Cherie sat in nothing but her underwear now, Joan in her t-shirt and unzipped jeans. She failed to resist staring at the blonde’s beautifully slim body. Cherie noticed Joan’s seductive glance, making her smirk and blush at the sight.

Cherie shifted fully laying on the bed, leaning back on her arms. Joan instantly slid in between her legs. Cherie placed her hands on Joan's shoulders as she pressed against her.

Their lips crashed together, soft moans escaping from the both of them as their kissing deepened.

Joan wanted so _badly_ to please Cherie in this moment, but she needed to restrain herself, now wasn’t the right time.

She moved her lips to Cherie’s ear.

“I won't let anyone hurt you again…” Joan whispered.

Cherie’s stomach fluttered.

“You promise?” she whispered back, holding Joan tight.

Joan planted a tender kiss on Cherie’s lips.

"I promise..." Joan whispered, staring down into Cherie's blue eyes.

No one’s ever been protective over Cherie like this…

Cherie smiled weakly, feeling her eyes beginning to water. She pressed her lips against Joan's, leaving them there for a moment.

"Joanie?" Cherie whispered softly against Joan's lips.

"Yeah, Cherie?"

"Am I... your girl?" she asked, quietly.

Joan thought for a moment.

They never talked about what they were after the incident at that party... But in this moment, everything felt so natural to them. Joan liked Cherie _a lot_ and the thought of her being 'her girl' made her heart thump against her chest. It felt so right... It felt... _perfect_.

Sexual chemistry oozed between the two since day one, it was finally time for something to be said about it anyway...

"Do you wanna be?" Joan whispered back.

Cherie nodded.

"Okay... You can be my girl, blondie" Joan giggled, blushing.

Cherie felt like her insides were melting as Joan said this. For some reason, it felt so... good.

She smiled and cupped Joan's face, pulling her into a deep, passionate kiss, instantly taking Joan's breath away. Hot tears streamed down Cherie's face as their lips pressed together.

As the kiss ended, Joan saw the tears on Cherie's face.

"Cherie? What's wrong?" Joan asked, sounding worried.

"I'm so thankful is all..." Cherie said softly. She didn't quite know what she was feeling...

"I'm here for you... I always got your back." Joan replied, wiping the tears from Cherie's cheeks.

Cherie smiled her bashful smile and planted a kiss on Joan's cheek.

Joan rested her head on Cherie's chest feeling exhausted.

"Let's get some shut-eye, eh?" Joan said sleepily.

Cherie nodded, resting her head on Joan's, and holding her tight.

"Goodnight, Joanie..."

"Goodnight, Cherie..."

The two drifted off into a much-needed sleep.

  
 


End file.
